


and if there's a reason I'm still alive

by DivineProjectZero



Series: between the sinners and the saints [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineProjectZero/pseuds/DivineProjectZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t know if I can love you back,” Harry finally says.</p><p>Eggsy says, "I can wait."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and if there's a reason I'm still alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concernedlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/gifts).



> Self-betaed and not Brit-picked. All mistakes are mine. Constructive feedback is always welcome.
> 
> My birthday gift for the lovely concernedlily. This was certainly not what she had in mind, I suppose, but we all know I have no self-restraint.

After Harry wakes up from his coma, it takes him a fortnight to regain enough strength to struggle his way to sitting upright on his bed without assistance. His muscles have atrophied over time he’s spent bedridden, and the mere act of pushing himself up and straightening his back exhausts him. A single year in bed and it’s as if he’s aged a decade; he feels _old_ , weary and fragile in a way he never expected himself to be.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Eggsy says, holding up a glass of water in offering. “Want some?”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, even though he really could use that drink. If he says yes, Eggsy will have to hold the glass to Harry’s lips and tilt it carefully for Harry to take slow sips, and there’s a discomfort there, in the idea of relying on Eggsy. The thought of baring his throat to that smile makes all of Harry’s insides shudder.

“You sure?”

Harry looks at Eggsy, at his carelessly windswept hair and his immaculately fitted charcoal grey suit, the very image of a young man who could go conquer an empire with a jaunty smirk and several weapons up his sleeve, if he so wished. 

It's a sight that makes his heart ache. "You don't have to do this.”

Eggsy tilts his head just the slightest bit to the side, his jaw set in a stubborn line, his eyes calm, calculating, _assessing_. Somewhere in the year that Harry’s lost, Eggsy’s grown into someone who knows to look beneath the surface of the words people say, and it’s a shame that Harry wasn’t granted the privilege of witnessing Eggsy’s growth spurt firsthand. If Harry were a more sentimental person, he’d ask Merlin for access to all of the recordings from Eggsy’s missions in the past year. 

If he were a more sentimental person, he would let Eggsy hold the damn glass for him.

“I’m doing this because I want to,” Eggsy says, quiet and sincere, pressing the glass into Harry’s hands. “You really should drink that,” he adds.

Harry’s hands shake as they hold the glass, nearly spilling the water onto the bedsheets, but he takes one gulp, than another, and just when he thinks he’s going to drop the glass, Eggsy takes it. 

“You’re wasting your time,” Harry says, partly out of spite. Mostly because it’s true.

Eggsy smiles, and it’s another infuriating little evolution of Eggsy Unwin from that lost year, the sad half-smile that’s just a small quirk of his lips and downcast eyes. “Chester King said that to you about me back then, didn’t he?”

He did, which is just another reason Harry’s not sorry the tosser is dead. “It’s not the same.”

“Why?” Eggsy asks. “What makes the old me worth anything more than you?”

_Everything_ , Harry wants to say. Eggsy was a brilliant, gorgeous, sweet boy who only needed half a chance to prove himself, and Harry is now a man past his prime, with everything to lose and nothing to gain. 

Instead, Harry settles with, “You had plenty of potential. I don’t have any left.”

“I ain’t in love with you for bloody potential,” Eggsy says fiercely. “I love you for who you already are.”

Harry closes his eyes. “Don’t.”

He can hear Eggsy exhale in a slow hiss. “Just sayin’ the truth.” His voice turns soft. “You ain’t a waste of time, Harry.”

“You’re going to waste your life at this rate.” _On an old man like me_ , Harry doesn’t add.

Eggsy huffs a laugh, and the hint of genuine mirth in it makes Harry open his eyes to see Eggsy smiling. Not the wretched half-smile that Harry hates, but a soft, giddy curve of his lips, the same smile that Harry was treated to whenever Eggsy thought he was about to say something particularly clever. 

“I ain’t wastin’ anything,” Eggsy says. “I’m biding my time.”

It’s entirely juvenile, a simple spin of words that ultimately mean nothing, but the fond exasperation that spills through Harry is familiar and treacherously sweet. 

If he were a more sentimental person, he’d let himself believe those words.

-

_He wakes up, and his entire body feels heavy, as if crushed under all the bodies of the people he killed in Kentucky. The scent of blood and gunpowder is fresh until his eyes focus and he sees Eggsy. And in that moment, Kentucky feels like nothing more than a nightmare, the church a distant memory._

_Then Eggsy says, “I have something to tell you.”_

_With an unpleasant jolt, Harry realizes that he can barely move, weighed down by the time that has slipped away from him, measured by the new thin scar at Eggsy’s jawline and the new calluses on his hands. That Kentucky was real, just as real as Eggsy. Eggsy, with his bright eyes and secretive smile, leaning down over Harry, smelling of honey and sandalwood, warm hands clasping Harry’s, warm breath against Harry’s cheek._

_He listens to Eggsy hand his heart to Harry on a silver platter and in that moment, he doesn't known what to do. He wants to take it, wants to push it away, wants to cut his own heart out and place it on the platter as well._

_“I don’t know if I can love you back,” Harry finally says. It isn’t easy to say, especially since his voice is raspy with disuse. His throat hurts._

_After a moment of contemplation, Eggsy nods. His fingers curl around Harry’s, and the warmth of them are an electric current, a shock through his nervous system to remind him that he is alive. Eggsy’s smile feels much like the same, an electric pulse that runs through every inch of him._

_Eggsy says, "I can wait.”_

-

Eggsy visits on a daily basis, barring when he has missions, returning from those extended absences with enthusiastic tales and little trinkets. A keychain from Stuttgart, a magnet from Kiev, and even a miniature souvenir of the Colosseum when he returns from a week in Rome. They decorate Harry’s bedside in the otherwise bleak medical bay, a reminder of Eggsy even when he’s not there. 

“I’m going to Chiang Mai tomorrow,” Eggsy says, lounging in the chair that has taken up residence by Harry’s bed on a permanent basis. “You been there before?”

Harry squeezes the grip strengthener in his left hand. He’s making slow progress at regaining his strength, but he’s improved enough to basic self-sufficiency. “No, though I’ve been to Thailand twice. I ended up getting food poisoning the second time, in Bangkok.”

“Jesus.” Eggsy makes a face. “I hope I never get sick on a mission. It’d be the worst timing.”

“Doubly so if you’re my age. It was rather embarassing.” Harry grimaces at the memory, but it elicits a fond chuckle from Eggsy, just as he intended. He’s growing accustomed to Eggsy’s presence, even recovered most of their comfortable back-and-forth that they used to have before Kentucky. Most days, it’s enough to help him ignore the fact that Eggsy’s waiting. That Harry’s the one making him wait. 

“You and food poisoning. I can’t imagine it,” Eggsy says, grinning.

“I attempted to drink it away with brandy, I believe,” Harry says. “You should have heard Merlin shouting at me on the comms. I think it was recorded. If you check the footage from three years ago, it was around July…”

He trails off and stares at the grip strengthener, his grip lax around it, his brain catching up with his faux pas just as Eggsy pieces it together.

“In 2012?” Eggsy asks.

That’s the thing. Even though it’s been weeks and weeks since Harry woke up, since he realized that he’d lost the second half of 2015 and had opened his eyes in the middle of 2016, he still misses that gap. To him, that argument with Eggsy in the bathroom was only less than two months ago. In Harry’s memory, he’d only bailed Eggsy out of a police station just last year, only so many months ago.

It’s a year that Harry will never get back, a year Eggsy spent digging his heels in and refusing to give up on Harry. 

It’s only a year, but it feels like so much more.

-

Eggsy comes back from Chiang Mai without food poisoning and with a small porcelain elephant, which he sets on the tiny bedside table, right beside the miniature Colosseum.

“You’ll run out of room,” Harry says. 

“You’ll get out of here before that happens,” Eggsy says, then winks.

-

Harry wakes up with the stench of blood still in his nose, the sounds of screams still in his ears, and promptly aims a vicious backhand at the person looming over him.

“Harry,” Eggsy says, blocking Harry’s arm. His voice is calm but his eyes are worried. It’s easy to tell with the way his brow is furrowed, the way they dart all over Harry’s face. “It’s me, Eggsy. You’re in HQ. It’s 2016. You had a bad dream.”

The scent of blood and burning fades away with every word Eggsy says, until Harry simply feels drained.

“Do you want me to go?” Eggsy asks, not quite touching Harry, giving Harry his space but still lingering close enough as if to reassure Harry with his presence. It’s a response learned through trial and error, from Harry’s previous nightmares. Harry prefers to be left alone after nightmares, and Eggsy’s learned not to take offense at it.

“Yes,” Harry says.

There’s a faint slump to Eggsy’s shoulders as he leaves, a smudge of sorrow marring his handsome features, and Harry doesn’t let himself call Eggsy back, doesn’t let himself say  _wait._

It’s not the first nightmare he’s had about South Glade Church, nor will it be the last. He’s been seeing Kingsman’s therapist when he hasn’t been forcing himself through rehab, and he’s made his peace with the incident, for the most part. Harry’s making improvements, both psychologically and physically, and he’ll continue to improve until he’s nearly just as good as he used to be.

But he’ll never be the same. He’ll never be as strong as he used to be, will never escape the nightmares for good. He’ll never quite stop being damaged.

He’s okay with that, he thinks. He can live with it. 

Whether Eggsy will be okay with it, whether he’s still going to wait despite that, Harry’s not sure.

What Eggsy’s exactly waiting for, he’s not so sure about, either.

-

Eggsy doesn’t bring the next souvenir himself, but instead mails him the postcard during the second week of his month-long undercover mission in Nairobi. All that’s written on the back is _Take your time. I can wait_.

-

When Eggsy comes back from Nairobi, he doesn’t mention a single word about waiting and simply launches into a detailed retelling of his mission, how he ended up stealing a helicopter and had crash-landed onto the target’s lawn. 

“How’s your physio going?” Eggsy asks, once he finishes his tale.

“Not bad,” Harry says. He’s gaining muscle back without problem, and he can stand and even walk, albeit only for a few steps without assistance. He’s going to need a cane. “They think I might be able to go home next month.”

“Good timing,” Eggsy says, and Harry follows his line of sight to the collection of souvenirs on the bedside table. The postcard is propped up against the porcelain elephant. There's room for maybe two more souvenirs.

“You could make up your mind and settle on a type,” Harry says, amused. “My mother collected magnets.”

“It’s not like you collect anything, other than creepy dead animals. Like butterflies.” Eggsy frowns. “You don’t actually want me bringing dead animals back, do you?”

Harry huffs a laugh at that. “I don’t have a preference. It was merely a suggestion.”

There’s a glowing, happy look on Eggsy’s face whenever he makes Harry laugh, and it would be alarming for a spy to wear his heart on his sleeve like that, but Harry doesn’t chide him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll think about it,” Eggsy says, his mouth soft with adoration, and Harry wants to stop looking at it, wants to maybe cover it with his own mouth.

He's not sure if he wants Eggsy to stop looking at him like that.

-

“It’s up to you, really,” Merlin said.

“We both know that’s not true,” Harry says. As touching as it is that they didn’t recruit a new Galahad in the hopes of having Harry wake up and resume taking the seat, it’s hardly a smart idea to keep him as a field agent. “I’m never going to be as effective as I used to be.” Not to mention that he’s getting on in his years. His age has been harder to ignore, lately, on the days his rehab is slow and he doesn’t see improvement. Those are the days his frustration gets better of him.

“But you’ll still be effective,” Merlin points out. “Much more so than any infant we try to replace you with.”

“You could train up a new recruit in the time I go through my rehab,” Harry counters. “I still won’t be field-ready for several months, and that’s an optimistic guess.”

“Think about it some more,” Merlin says dryly. “But to be honest, I’d rather you not give up the seat for a while. I think Eggsy might scratch the eyes out of whichever poor candidate tries to take your codename.”

Eggsy, who inherited Gawain’s seat after Gawain became Arthur post-V-Day. Harry can sympathize, just the slightest bit, because he’d rather give Galahad’s seat to Eggsy or to nobody at all. 

“I’ll think about it.” He softens the grudging tone with gratitude, and Merlin nods in understanding. “Although it’s up to you to restrain Eggsy from trying to assault my replacement, if it comes to that.”

“The boy bloody worships you, just give him a good talking to.” Merlin snorts and takes a long sip of his coffee. “Which reminds me, you’re taking an awfully long time with him. I thought you’d have at least made up your mind by now.”

“I’m just not sure,” Harry says. He hates to admit it, because he’s never been a fan of uncertainty within himself, but it’s the most honest truth he has. He’s not sure if any of it is a good idea, if he loves Eggsy back, if Eggsy loves him or is in love with the man who he was before a lost year. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to live with it, if it turns out that Harry wasn’t worth waiting for all this time, if Eggsy realizes he’s been wasting his time all these months.

“It’s been almost four months since you woke up. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not,” Harry says, then pauses. Eggsy’s the one who is waiting, not Harry. Harry’s not waiting for anything.

Except, that's not quite true.

-

Eggsy comes back from Helsinki with a wooden Moomin doll and three gunshot wounds.

He’s stable by the time he’s flown into HQ’s medical bay, but Harry can’t sleep through the night. He keeps waking up, thinking that he’s heard Eggsy’s heart rate monitor flatline. 

-

All of Eggsy’s bullet wounds are flesh wounds, one in his upper left arm and one in his hip, but the one that nearly killed him is the one in his left thigh, where it nicked his femoral artery and almost had him bleed to death in the outskirts of Finland’s capital. Now that his wounds have all been stitched up and he’s been given blood, Eggsy heals quickly with the advantage that his youth grants him. Even though his left arm is in a sling and he’ll be on crutches for a while, he’ll undoubtedly heal before Harry even dreams of walking without a cane.

“We can _bond_ , Harry,” Eggsy says, and there’s that telltale uptick at the corner of his mouth, that smirk he wears when he’s taking the piss. “We’re both stuck here for at least a couple weeks.”

Harry will make Merlin suffer for putting Eggsy’s bed in the same room as his. Harry might be fond of the boy, but there’s only so much time you can spend cooped up in the same room as someone before wanting to murder them. “I think it’d be a splendid idea to bond in silence,” Harry says.

“Very funny, Harry.” Eggsy rolls his eyes with shrug. Then he fidgets and looks down at his lap, his cheeks and ears tinged red with embarrassment. For all his bluster and patience, he still has his shy moments. It’s terribly endearing. “I can ask Merlin to move me somewhere else, if you’re gettin’ sick of having me around.”

Harry’s tempted to let him do just that, but there’s a wretched, soft spot inside of him that doesn’t want to let Eggsy out of his sight. “Don’t be silly.” 

“Really?” Eggsy looks surprised, like he wasn’t actually expecting Harry to stop him from leaving, then pleased. “You okay with being stuck with me?” The corners of Eggsy’s eyes crinkle in mirth, and once again it strikes Harry how young Eggsy is. How sweet and lovely, and utterly willing to give himself over to Harry.

“Of course I am,” Harry says, helpless, unable to say anything but the truth. The pleased smile on Eggsy’s mouth widens, his flush deepening. He’s all but baring his throat for Harry to do whatever he pleases, so ready and eager and ripe for the taking _._

Harry remembers Merlin’s words. _What are you waiting for?_

-

He wakes up from another nightmare and it feels like his entire mouth is filled with ash.

“Harry,” Eggsy says, hobbling over on a crutch, clutching a glass of water in the hand that was released from its sling a couple days ago. Harry accepts it and gulps it down, tries to wash out the taste of dust and death.

Once he’s finished, he hurls the glass at the wall in front of him.

“Jesus Christ,” Eggsy swears, sounding both shocked and exasperated, not moving even an inch.

Harry feels immense satisfaction at the shards of glass scattered about; there’s a sense of control, in the idea that he’s strong enough to break things again. He’s viciously glad.

“Feel better?” Eggsy asks.

His bemused tone abruptly drains all the anger and vindictiveness and energy right out of Harry. Weariness seeps into his bones. “I suppose it’s cabin fever.”

“You’ve been cooped up in HQ for way too long.” 

“Patience was never my strongest suit.” He feels less raw and scraped open, more reckless and brave than he’s ever been since Kentucky. So he looks Eggsy in the eye and says, “I’m not worth waiting for.”

Eggsy’s eyes narrow. “That’s for me to decide.”

“When I first met you, you were six years old.” Harry’s been recollecting fragments of memories, been reconstructing that day in his head over and over again ever since he received a phone call and went to bail Eggsy out of a police station. “And I was already well into my thirties. You might not even remember it. Eggsy, by the time I met you, half of the people I considered my friends were dead, and that’s including your father. My own father and my brother were both dead, and my mother passed away before you were old enough for secondary school. By the time you were in basic training for the Marines, everybody I cared about outside of Kingsman was dead.”

And within Kingsman, he was on good terms with most of the other knights and staff, but the only ones he considered genuine friends had been James and Gawain and Merlin. Then James died.

“I’ve outlived many people, but Eggsy, I don’t intend to ever outlive you. I’ve been ready to die for Kingsman for a very long time, because Kingsman is all I have left to live for.” And this, this is why Harry can’t let Eggsy do this: "I’ve been waiting for death for such a long time that I’ve stopped loving anybody else.”

It hurts to look at Eggsy’s green eyes, the echo of what just might be heartbreak in them, so he turns his face away, looks at the shattered remains of the glass cup instead.

“I’m sorry.”

-

Three quiet, terrible days later, Eggsy is discharged from medical.

Five infuriating, Eggsy-less days later, Merlin tells Harry that Eggsy’s been sent on a diplomatic mission to Toronto.

It’s not like Harry didn’t expect this—he didn’t deserve Eggsy anyway—but the sudden loss of Eggsy’s presence, the idea of losing more than that, stings far more than he’d like to admit.

He wonders if Eggsy won’t even bother bringing back souvenirs anymore.

-

There would have been plenty of better options for souvenirs in a city like Toronto, but the small snow globe with its miniature CN Tower is what Eggsy brings and deposits into Harry’s lap.

“You remembered,” Harry says, and can’t finish that sentence. 

“I’ve been waiting for a long time, too,” Eggsy says. The earnest, stubborn, beautiful boy. “I’ve been waiting for you my entire life. And it’s worth it. You’re worth it. And if you think waiting for death is worth it, I can’t stop you. But I think it ain’t worth it. I think your life is worth more than that, so. Just, think about it, yeah?”

Harry curves his palm around the snow globe and wonders what else there is worth waiting for in his life. What there is to live for. “And even after all that, what if I don’t love you back?”

Eggsy smiles that damned half-smile, with the sad slant to his mouth and those downcast eyes. “I already knew I was gonna love you for the rest of my life, even before you woke up from the coma. I’ll be okay.”

-

Harry waits. He goes to rehab and therapy and makes plans to go home, and he thinks about Harry Hart, about Galahad, about the man that Kentucky has turned him into.

He thinks about Eggsy.

-

After Harry’s finally discharged from medical, the first thing he does is go talk to Arthur and Merlin. The second thing he does is finally come home, for the first time in over 18  months, and take a blissful nap in his own bed in his bedroom. The third thing he does is don a suit and sigh over how loosely it fits him. He hopes to regain the rest of his lost muscle mass soon.

The fourth thing he does is go knock on Eggsy Unwin’s front door.

“Merlin didn’t tell me you were being discharged today,” Eggsy says, in jeans and hoodie, his hair falling into his eyes. He looks a fair bit like he did the day he’d walked out of Holborn Police Station, but older. Happier.

“Merlin told me this was your address,” Harry quips, still standing on the doorstep. He’s wearing a suit with the same cut as the one he’d worn that day in front of the police station, though it’s a different pattern, and there’s a cane in his hand instead of the Rainmaker, and he feels a great deal older—but he thinks he could be happier, too. 

“Uh, Mum took Daisy out to—well, you should come in.” Eggsy flushes, his eyes flickering over Harry’s suit, and he doesn’t seem to mind the loose fit at all, judging by the way his pupils dilate and his pulse jumps in his throat. 

Eggsy opens the door wider to let Harry in, and as soon as he closes it Harry turns, takes a step towards Eggsy, cages him right there against the front door.

“Um,” Eggsy says, and smiles, shy and hopeful. “Hi?”

It makes Harry feel a little less like a makeshift person constructed out of shattered pieces. More like the man who had looked down at Eggsy tied to the traintracks and had thought _I’ve been waiting for you_.

“Hello,” Harry says, and cradles Eggsy’s jaw with one hand. “I thought about it.”

Eggsy blinks up at him, wide-eyed. “And?”

“And you’re worth it.” Harry’s lived for over half a century, has loved and lost a number of people, and he’ll still have more nightmares to haunt him through the night. But if all of it has led to this moment, to Harry meeting Eggsy, to Harry _keeping_ Eggsy, then it was worth it. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all this time, and you’re worth my entire life, Eggsy.”

“You sodding romantic,” Eggsy says, grinning, his eyes wet. “Your death wish better be dead.”

“Depends on my remaining rehab, but Arthur and I’ve agreed that I should be up for a test run in four months.” Harry strokes the soft skin behind Eggsy’s ear, notes how Eggsy shivers, how his eyelashes flutter. “You’re going to be my backup until I’m fully qualified again.”

“So we’re official, then?” Eggsy asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I think we should make it _very_ official,” Harry says, letting the implications unspool in Eggsy’s mind with a squeeze to Eggsy’s hip with the hand that’s not cupping Eggsy’s jaw. He’s not up for rigorous activities yet, but that’s not difficult to work around with plenty of foreplay and an enthusiastic partner. “I think we could start with a kiss,” he says, when he’s had his fill of Eggsy’s blush.

“Oh,” Eggsy says, turning even redder. “Um, actually. It’s not the first…I kissed you. Before. When I thought you weren’t gonna wake up.”

It takes a moment for Harry to catch on. Then he starts laughing.

“Oi, I was desperate at the time,” Eggsy grumbles, but he’s smiling helplessly, one hand around Harry’s wrist, holding his hand against Eggsy’s cheek, the other curled into the fabric of Harry’s jacket. Harry laughs harder, and he loves Eggsy so much in this moment. Wants to love him for the rest of their lives. 

He kisses the corner of Eggsy’s mouth, melds his mouth to Eggsy’s to swallow a gasp, presses Eggsy against the door and feels Eggsy melt into the kiss, and his blood runs hot under his skin with the recognition of _yes, you, it was always you_.

“Eggsy, my darling,” Harry says after he’s done tasting the inside of Eggsy’s mouth. He leans their foreheads together and nuzzles his nose against Eggsy’s. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“We’re worth it,” Eggsy says, fierce and unwavering, and Harry will live for this boy for as long as he can. “We were worth waiting for.”

-

After Eggsy moves into Stanhope Mews, he stays in bed with Harry after each and every nightmare. He's by Harry's side when he returns to the field. The entire household becomes littered with snow globes from missions.

Harry’s never felt more at home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> writing tumblr: [divineprojectzero](http://divineprojectzero.tumblr.com)  
> main tumblr: [listentotheshityousay](http://listentotheshityousay.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [@listento_yousay](http://twitter.com/listento_yousay)


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